got a loaded pistol,
besides the sword which he so well knew how to handle. For one second he
hesitated whether he should take refuge in Monsieur d'Alencon's apartment,
the door of which, he thought, was just then opened, or whether he should
endeavour to leave the Louvre. Deciding upon the latter course, he sprang
down the stairs, ten steps at a time, reached the wicket, uttered the
password, and darted out.

"Go up-stairs," he shouted as he passed the guardhouse; "they are slaying
there for the king's account."

And before he could be pursued, he had disappeared in the Rue du Coq,
without having received a scratch.

It was at this moment of time that Catharine had said to De
Nancey--"Remain here; I will go myself to see what is occurring."

"But, madam," replied the captain, "the danger to which your Majesty might
be exposed compels me to follow."

"Remain here, sir," said Catharine, in a more imperative tone than before.
"A higher power than that of the sword watches over the safety of kings."

The captain obeyed. Catharine took a lamp, thrust her naked feet into
velvet slippers, entered the corridor, which was still full of smoke, and
advanced, cold and unmoved, towards the apartment of the King of Navarre.
All was again dead silence. Catharine reached the outer door of Henry's
rooms, and passed into the antechamber, where Orthon was lying, still
insensible.

"Ah, ha!" said she, "here is the page to begin with; a little further we
shall doubtless find the master." And she passed through the second room.

Then her foot struck against a corpse: it was that of the soldier whose
skull had been split. He was quite dead. Three paces further she found the
lieutenant: a ball in his breast, and the death-rattle in his throat.
Finally, near the bed, lay a man bleeding profusely from a double wound
that had gone completely through his throat. He was making violent but
ineffectual efforts to raise himself from the ground. This was Maurevel.

Catharine's blood ran cold; she saw the bed empty; she looked round the
room, and sought in vain amongst the three bodies that lay weltering upon
the floor, that of him whom she would fain have seen there. Maurevel
recognised her; his eyes became horribly dilated, and he held out his arms
with a gesture of despair.

"Well," said she, in a low voice "where is he? What has become of him?
Wretch! have you let him escape?"

Maurevel endeavored to articulate; but an unintelligible hi